Monthly Archives: April 2022

Two Years of COVID (Part Two)

(In our first installment last week, we just about reached the end of 2020, with vaccines about to release and 4000 cases in Steuben. We pick up the story there.)

Year’s end brought an outbreak at Steuben County prison, and many banks returned to drive-through service only. The sheriff’s office calculated that domestic incident calls had increased 29% over the previous year, validating fears that increased isolation, plus increased tension, would lead to more abuse. Food Bank of the Southern Tier served 20% more household requests in ’20 than in ’19. One good result of all this – flu cases went down, thanks to improved hygiene and distancing. Apparently we hadn’t been washing our hands as well as we’d thought we were!
Some people still insisted the whole thing was a hoax, while others had fears of vaccines. But as vaccines became widely available, Americans lined up (with six-foot intervals) in millions. In January Steuben started offering shots to those over 75, in addition to front-line workers.
Steuben County Public Health authorized high-risk winter sports for high schools. County school district administrators unanimously agreed that masks would be required (with medical exemptions), and no indoor spectators will be permitted. Business closures continued, including the venerable Carey’s Groceries in Cohocton. (Some closures were due to owners who had planned to retire deciding not to open up again.) Movie theaters and libraries reopened, with limitations, around the first of March. Corning Community College became a state mass-vaccination site, while pharmacies and County Public Health also continued vaccinations. In April, vaccines became available for all those 18 and over. A special effort reached out to migrant workers.
With some circles still downplaying the risk, or even the existence, of the virus, too many people did not seek medical help until their cases had become very severe. Steuben County Dairy Festival rook place in June, after a one-year absence. But a group of demonstrators demanded that Corning-Painted Post Schools end their mask mandate for students.
By June the dangerous Delta variant of the virus was becoming widespread; many sites again required, or strongly recommended, masks.
People who’d either been vaccinated OR had had the virus gained some degree of immunity, and as those numbers went up, the number of NEW cases went down. In not much more than a month and a half, Steuben had added 3000 cases. Then it took two months to get the next thousand, and almost four months (April 2 to July 29) to get another thousand. Things looked good! But then we had another thousand by September 15. After that, thousand-case blocks built up every two or three weeks until the start of this year, when it looked like all Hell broke loose. We got a thousand cases in three days – two days! – four days – in one month and two days, we added 6000 cases.
Why wasn’t there panic in the streets? In part, I suppose, people were “dulled” by the whole experience, becoming listless and resigned to huge numbers.
Also, this was ANTICIPATED rise, for several reasons. This was “flu season,” when flu-like cases typically rise. There were multiple “gathering holidays” (Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s) to breed cases – all still bad, and much of it avoidable, but at least unsurprising.
The delta variant was still giving trouble, but many new cases were of the omicron variant – easier to catch, but normally not so severe. On top of that, case reports shot up immediately when thousands of home test kits were handed out. In time, matters equalized. It took Steuben four weeks to rack up the next thousand. Going from 23,000 to 24,000 took a month and a-half. In March, Hornell held its first St. Patrick’s Day parade in three years. A shopkeeper in Corning told me that some folks were requesting COVID posters from the windows, figuring that they’d be worth money someday.
That might be a little premature. New variants are always possible, long-term effects are unclear, and poor hygiene is still dangerous. Masks and distancing still matter. But we may be on the downward slope at last.

Two Years of COVID (Part One)

On March 16 two years ago, my wife and I walked from Bath’s Dormann Library to Five Star Bank, completed our errand, and walked back. When we got there the library director was breaking the news that they had just been ordered to close down, that afternoon, and everybody should check out however many books they wanted. I grabbed some nice thick ones, and one last chai smoothie for the road from the library cafe.
Within days most everything was shut down, including the churches and the schools. I think most of us assumed it would be for a few weeks, or at most a few months. I don’t know anyone who dreamed we’d still be struggling with it (happily, at a lower level!) over two years later. I started keeping an ongoing chronicle, strictly of Steuben County COVID news, for future historians. I’m now up to 150 pages.
On March 18 Steuben County reported its first case, and Bath V.A. was soon taking advantage of its bridge across the Conhocton to strictly control access. Allegany County reported its first death on March 30th, Livingston on the 31st. On April 2nd, the first Steuben death was reported. In those early days three nursing homes drove the cases, and the deaths, in Steuben.
Toilet paper shortages prompted Angry Oven Pizza in Bath to offer a free roll with every delivery… while supplies lasted. Disinfectant was in short supply. Masking was urged or mandated, along with distancing, and strict washing regimes. President Trump responded erratically, at first insisting that no one would die, then later treating it as a serious public health crisis, mixed in with disdaining masks, blaming it on China, saying it was all a hoax to make him look bad, saying it would go away like magic, suggesting that we inject people’s lungs with bleach, and being hospitalized himself. Under his administration the “Operation Warp Speed” vaccine-devlopment program forged ahead, but his confused response overall probably killed whatever slim chance he had had in the fall election.
St. James Mercy Center opened its new hospital in the midst of a health crisis. With lower demand, farmers were dumping milk. People put up pictures of Easter eggs in their windows, so that children could spy them from the street. Parks and playgrounds were closed. County offices were closed. Businesses and service groups made or bought masks for free distribution, or turned to making disinfectant. Catholic Charities, Food Bank, and other agencies worked out ways to distribute needed food and clothing with minimal contact. Schools delivered lunches to their children. Hornell schools set up wifi hot spots throughout their district – many public libraries left theirs functioning, and accessible from the parking lots.
Limited reopening began on May 15, but the summer clobbered tourism, retail, and restaurants. The region shed jobs in thousands, and multiple businesses closed for good. But Corning Inc. announced that its Valor glass would be used for the vaccine vials, and Steuben County Fair kept its uninterrupted streak going with a drive-through fair, averaging 300 vehicles a day.
Steuben went over three months without a death, and schools reopened with hybrid arrangements… days on site, plus days on computer. Halloween was pretty quiet, but the November election went smoothly thanks to early voting, absentee ballots, and hygiene discipline at the polling places.
But as restrictions had come down, cases increased, with Steuben reaching 1000 by October 26. Three days later, a case in Almond meant that every municipality in Steuben had been affected. Deaths hit 100 (79 of them in nursing homes) by December 1, and by the 4th we had reached another thousand cases – in just over a month. Eight weeks after that, just as the vaccine was about the become available, we would have jumped from 2000 cases to 5000. By then we would also have 160 deaths.

(Our second installment, next week, will bring us up to date.)

April in Paris (or At Least, in Western New York)

“April showers bring May flowers.”
How many other months, besides March, have a little opening slogan?
“April Showers”; “April in Paris”; “April Love”: it seems to me that April and June are about the only months to have a whole suite of songs (plus a few for September).
April also has a sort of holiday, April Fool’s Day. Elementary teachers are met by a rush of kids telling them that their shoe is untied, there’s a spot on their jacket, the principal wants to see them… on and on and on, whatever seems hilarious to a little kid. There’s far worse ways for kids to spend their time. How many months have a day specifically devoted to hilarity and silliness? The Fellowship of Merry Christians established Holy Humor Sunday as the first Sunday after April Fool’s.
Easter and Passover often fall in April, about the time that spring is bursting out, so it’s time for new spring clothes. The daffodils and other bulbs are up, the sun shines more.
“Pictures of growing spring and farms and homes,” envisioned Walt Whitman, “with the Fourth-month eve at sundown.”
“’Twas the eighteenth of April, in ‘seventy-five” that Paul Revere galloped off to Lexington, where the American Revolution began the following morning.
The Civil War began in April, and ended in April four years later, with almost a million dead. Grieving for Abraham Lincoln, who was killed in April just on the point of victory, Walt Whitman wrote movingly of “when lilacs last in the dooryard bloomed.”
Eighty years less three days later, Franklin D. Roosevelt died, right on the point of victory in HIS war. Old men and women who had watched Lincoln’s funeral procession mourned again, for Roosevelt, as HIS procession passed.
The Spanish-American War began in April, in 1898. Seems the Bible had it right by describing spring as the time “when kings go forth to war.”
Apart from Easter and Passover (and those not every year), April’s a little short on holidays, though admittedly Easter and Passover are BIG holidays. But April 15 IS the date by which we need to get our tax returns in!
Have you heard that little gag (also beloved by elementary kids) that if April showers bring May flowers, then May flowers bring – Pilgrims! Actually, in April of 1621 the Pilgrims saw the Mayflower off, as it left them to return to England. With 30 kids and 20 adults left alive out of the original hundred, it must have been a scary moment. But they all stuck it out. “O strong hearts and true,” Longfellow wrote, “not one went back on the Mayflower.”
The April 4th Movement in China (1976) began the downfall of the “Gang of Four.” Steuben County reported its first COVID death on April 2, 2020.
The Mount Tambora volcano began a series of explosions on April 10, 1815, ushering in “the year without a summer.” The Titanic sailed and sank in April (1912).
George Washington became president in April, the Louisiana Purchase was made in April, and New York took Niagara Falls for our first state park, also in April.
Queen Elizabeth was born on April 21, but the country celebrates on June 10, when it’s less likely to rain. But even as far back as the 1300s Chaucer, “the poet of the dawn,” wrote about April (Aprille) with its sweet showers (his shoures soote). The “tendre croppes” start rising in the fields, while in the trees “smale fowles maken melodye.” No wonder, after a hard winter, that folk then long to go on pilgrimages, and pilgrims hie them forth to seek strange strands.
Travel’s easier for us than it was in Chaucer’s day. But for us too, the grass greens up, and the birds come back. The frosts are suddenly few, and the snowfalls fewer yet. Summer’s still far off, and winter still snaps at our heels, but spring is clearly here, and some days we go out with light jackets. Helped along by Daylight Savings Time, each day the sun sets just a little later. If any ice lingered on the ponds to the end of March, April shoos it away. At last.